


Slipping

by flibbertygigget



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Animated), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Death, Elements of Comics, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Some other deaths implied, Trying to help, dark shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman is dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It took nearly getting killed by an ordinary thug for Bruce to admit that he was getting old.

 

Perhaps it should have been the grey hairs that tipped him off, or the fact that Tim had taken over as Bludhaven's Nightwing, but the truth was that Bruce never thought of himself as moving through time like the rest of the world. Maybe it was because he spent so much time around people like Clark and Diana, who didn't look a day older than when he had first met them. Maybe it was because he had never expected to have a chance to age.

 

 

Regardless of his expectations, regardless of the slight bitterness he felt at being the first to step down, Bruce knew that he couldn't be Batman anymore. He would be an even greater liability like this, and it wasn't fair to any of them for him to keep hanging around like a ghost, expecting them to pick up his slack. So quickly, quietly, before he could change his mind, Bruce Wayne hung up the cowl and deactivated himself, both as Batman and as head of his company.

 

For five long, nearly unbearable months he refused all calls and denied all visitors. He watched the news obsessively, but no matter what he saw or heard he forced himself to do nothing. Getting involved, he knew, would only make things worse. Still, in spite of his resolve not to contact any of his old comrades, he couldn't say that he was upset when he opened the door to his room one night to see Diana standing there, looking out the opened window at the half-dozen graves in the garden.

 

"Most people would use the door," he said. Diana turned.

 

"I tried that, Bruce. We all have." Bruce grunted, trying to resist the urge to turn tail and run. Diana was studying him, and Bruce was terrified that she would see right through him.

 

"Can't you leave an old man in peace?" he said.

 

"You're hardly an old man." Bruce let out a short bark of a laugh.

 

"Don't flatter me, Diana. I know an aging man when I see one."

 

"You didn't let that stop you until a few weeks ago. What happened?" Bruce turned, but Diana put a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me, Bruce." Bruce felt his face darken.

 

"I realized what I should have a long time ago," he said.

 

"Which is?"

 

"I'm a liability. I always have been. It was a mistake to join the League in the first place. I'm correcting that now."

 

"By what? Giving up?" Bruce whirled around, fury in his eyes, but he didn't get a chance to answer her. He overbalanced, and he would have fallen had Diana not steadied him. Bruce looked up at her, anger gone, only a sardonic smile left on his lips.

 

"See what I mean?" he said. Diana gave him a look that was half-way between anger and pity.

 

"You don't have to shut everyone out, Bruce. Even if you are getting... older, you still have a place with us. You're still you." Bruce's smile disappeared.

 

"Am I?" he said. Diana looked confused.

 

"Bruce?" she said. Bruce shrugged her hand away.

 

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." It took all of his strength not to sound bitter. "It's just part of getting older. I'll survive. Or not, but that's just part of getting older, too."

 

"You're rambling, Bruce." Diana's fear was clear in her voice. "Are you sure you're all right?" Bruce looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes.

 

"It's not serious," he lied. "I'm just growing absent minded. I forget where I put things, I forget why I go places." He swallowed. "Once, I forgot how to get home." He heard Diana's breath catch. 

 

"Bruce," she said slowly, "that sounds serious."

 

"I went to a doctor. He told me- He told me I have Alzheimer's." Diana placed a hand on his arm, and Bruce closed his eyes. No matter how much the pity galled him, he couldn't bring him self to reject the comfort she gave him.

 

"I'm so sorry," Diana said. Bruce sighed.

 

"Even if it had just been my body that was failing, I would have left the League. But for it to be my mind..." Diana's hands were steady and reassuring on his shoulders.

 

"Come back to to the Watchtower, Bruce," she said. "Please." Bruce looked up.

 

"You can't be serious." Diana smiled at him. 

 

"Deadly," she said. "We need you, Bruce. You might think it better to lock yourself in and push away all your friends, but we don't." Bruce didn't respond. "I don't want you to be alone."

 

"I'll be fine," Bruce said.

 

"You obviously won't. Just- come back up to the Watchtower. You don't have to even talk to us. I'd feel better if you were up there." Bruce said nothing, but from the look on his face Diana knew that she had won.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce, though he had given into moving up to the Watchtower, had no intention of being someone to be pitied. And part of that was not allowing word of his condition to get out to the general population of the Watchtower. Therefore, he asked Diana to not tell anyone his diagnosis. Not Wally, not J'onn, not even Clark. He would deal with this on his own.

Of course, that was easier said than done. It was hard to hide anything from a satellite full of superheroes for long, especially ones like Wally who couldn't just mind their own damn business. So when Wally was the first to come to hia room in spite of his wishes, Bruce couldn't say he was surprised. 

"Hey!" said Wally. Bruce didn't answer, instead concentrating on the blueprints in front of him. Wally zipped over, blowing a few off the desk. "Um... I brought something for you to eat. Diana was going to, but I was faster, and I wanted to see you, so..." Bruce threw down his pencil in disgust, and Wally instantly fell silent.

"Oh, what's the use of it?" Bruce muttered. 

"Um... Batman?" Bruce glared at Wally.

"Not anymore," he said. Then Bruce paused, unsure whether he should ask his question or if Wally had already answered it. "Why are you here?" Wally looked confused and Bruce cursed himself.

"Lunch!" Wally said. "I brought you some soup, and a couple of sandwiches..." Bruce turned away. "Whatcha working on?" Bruce surveyed his desk with something close to panic. "You don't have to answer that!"

"Answer what?" Bruce said. Wall's eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay, Bat- Bruce, what's up with you? Did the Joker douse you with something?"

"No," Bruce said. "I'm just getting old."

"Uncle Barry's older than you, and he doesn't forget my questions as soon as I ask them," Wally said. "Besides, you're not even that-" Wally broke off. "Bats, are you-"

"I'm not crazy!" Wally shrunk back a little.

"I wasn't saying that, I was just wondering if you-"

"Go away." Bruce turned back to the blueprints.

"All right, all right. You do realize I'm going to ask Diana about this, right?" Bruce shrugged. 

"Be my guest," he said. Wally sped away. Bruce stared after him for a moment, and then he turned back to his work. Just looking at the scattered blueprints was enough to make him nearly hyperventilate. He had drawn them out, he knew that much, but he couldn't recall doing so. Some he didn't even know what they were. It was terrifying to look over his work, in his handwriting, and not understand.

 There was a knock at the door, and Bruce scrambled to put himself back together. "Bruce," Diana said. "It's me. Can I come in?" Bruce didn't answer, but Diana entered anyways.

"What do you want?" Bruce said. Diana tentatively put a hand on his shoulder.

"I told Wally," she said. "You do realize that half the Tower will know now-" Bruce whirled around.

"You told him?" he snarled. "Why the HELL would you do that?" Diana stepped back.

"He said you told him to ask me," she said calmly. Batman ground his teeth.

"Than the Flash is a fucking lier," he growled.

"Bruce, everyone will have to find out eventually."

"No, they don't," Bruce said. "If I stay in here, there's no chance of me getting lost in my own Tower. If no one ever comes in, they'll never know that I'm-" He choked back something that was not a sob. "I'm not... whatever. I can't be." Diana's arms encircled him. Bruce couldn't stand it. "Get away from me!"

"If you want me to," Diana said. "Shall I leave you alone?"

"Of course." Batman thought he saw Diana's face fall a little, but she quickly masked it, whatever it was. She exited the room.

Bruce looked down. His hands were shaking. He snorted. "Why the hell am I..." Bruce trailed off. He couldn't find the words.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce very rarely felt "all right" these days. He struggled to remember. Days would pass without a single thing sticking. He got into the habit of writing things down- nothing complicated, just things he would rather die than forget about. It had taken him a week to get all the notes where he wanted them, though he couldn't recall exactly why. All of them began with two simple, impossible words: "Don't forget."

The first one that he always saw when he woke was also the most inconsequential. "Don't forget: You are no longer Batman." This ensured that he wouldn't change into his costume but into something more comfortable.

The rest of the notes were placed haphazardly. They had been written as Brice recalled things, important things. There was none of the careful precision of Batman in their positions or contents. They were as scattered as the man who had written them.

"Don't forget: The woman with black hair and a lasso is Diana. The man in red who talks too fast is Wally. The man with an S on his chest is Clark."

"Don't forget: If you get lost, ask someone to find  ~~Diana~~ Wonder Woman."

"Don't forget: Tim is Batman now. The Joker is dead. Gotham is safe."

"Don't forget: Don't lash out. You could hurt someone."

"Don't forget: Gotham is where you grew up."

"Don't forget: The man with Lantern's ring is not a horrible imposter. Jon Stewart is dead."

"Don't forget: Dick is dead."

"Don't forget: Mom and Dad are dead."

When Bruce woke up, there was always someone in the chair next to his bed, usually Diana.

"Where am I?" he asked. 

"You're in the Watchtower," Diana said, stroking his hair soothingly. "You're in your own room."

"Ah," he said. It didn't make sense to Bruce, that he wouldn't recognize his own room, but both the Question and the answer were slipping from his mind  like water through his hands. No matter how tightly he held onto it, his memories would always slowly drain away.

"What do you want to do today?" Diana asked, distracting him and allowing the last bits of memory to fade away. Bruce didn't answer, but Diana didn't seem to mind.

Wally was usually the one who brought him lunch. As they ate, the speedster babbled on and on about the most random things. Bruce didn't mind. He knew instinctively that it was all right just to allow W ally's one-sided conversation to wash over him, that it was all right for him to forget. It was... comforting not to feel the need to desperately grasp for every elusive thread of thought, to simply be able to sit back and listen.

As the afternoons wore on, however, Bruce became irritable. His friends privately thought he knew subconsciously that night was coming and felt the need to go and protect Gotham as he had done for years before. Whatever the reason, he became sullen and smallish in the evenings, and he would even lash out at those around him. That was why, when he could, Clark took the evening shift.

"Bruce," Clark said in greeting. Bruce was shuffling through the desk drawers, already slightly tense. Clark sighed. This was going to be a long evening. "Bruce, what are you doing?" Bruce turned to Clark, and it was Blaine to see that he was bothered by something.

"What is wrong with me, Clark?" he said. Clark closed his eyes. He hated these kinds of questions from Bruce.

"Why do you ask?" Clark said. Bruce waved a picture in his face.

"I can't remember," he said. "I can't think." When he saw the picture Clark's heart broke.

"Bruce, sit down," he said.

"I'm not going to forget this too!" Bruce shouted. "Tell me who it is!" He paused. "Please," he added softly, and the way that word wavered was what made Clark decide to lie.

"That's Jason," he said. Bruce looked down at the picture.

"I remember," he said. "Where is he now?" Clark took a deep breath.

"He's down in Gotham," he said. "He's helping Tim keep Gotham safe. You remember Tim, right?"

"A bit," said Bruce, finally relaxing. "I was afraid that Jason was dead too. So many notes say that people are dead." He looked around, and his eyes lit upon the blueprints gathering dust on his desk. "I used to be smart, didn't I?" Clark bit hia lip. Why was Bruce asking all the hard questions tonight? 

"Yes," Clark admitted. Bruce nodded and lapsed into silence. He began to putter around the small room, adjusting the position of all the things around him.

"I'm trying not to forget," he said suddenly. "I don't think I'll be able to. Our conversation wasn't important, was it?" Clark shook his head. "Good."

IIt was only then that Clark realized that, in spite of everything, this was the most content he had ever seen his friend. Clark wondered if this was almost a blessing in disguise for someone like Bruce, who carried so much pain inside him.


	4. Chapter 4

When Wally died, killed at last by the Mirror Master, Bruce didn't even notice. He needed help with the most basic tasks at that point, of course, so Diana tried not to feel bitter towards him. He would sit in his chair all day, reading the same sentence over and over, but in spite of it all he seemed content. When Diana entered the room, Bruce looked up from his book. Diana forced a smile.

"It's time for your lunch," she said. Bruce's brow wrinkled for a moment in confusion, then it settled again. Diana knew that he had already forgotten.

"Why-" Bruce broke off, shook his head, and turned back to his book. Diana went forward and began to spoon the warm soup into his mouth. Bruce seemed mildly surprised that the spoon was there every time.

"Wally was faster about this, you know," she said softly. "He was so fast that even you couldn't forget." Diana sighed. "I miss him."

Bruce blinked, his expression pleasantly blank. He had aged rapidly over the last three years. The man Diana had forced back to the Tower had barely looked his age, with a few wrinkles and salt and pepper hair. This Bruce was... frail-looking, all trembling fingers and perpetually hunched back. Diana knew that if he tried to stand he would probably collapse.

"It's all right," she said, stroking his hair as she had done a million times before. "Even if you can't, remember that. I'm here, nothing can harm you. You don't have to fight anymore." She could almost see her words slipping away from him, but at least they gave her comfort. Bruce was nodding automatically, as he did to everything these days, in a futile attempt to seem as though he could respond and think again.

"Did you know," she said, "that Ra's al Ghul offered you use of the Lazarus Pit? He thought you were just getting old, and he said that he didn't want to lose such a noble enemy. I think he might be getting soft in his old age." She closed her eyes, hoping he couldn't see the disappointed tears that were welling up. "But he says the Pit cannot heal the mind. If it could, I would take you there in an instant." She gently stroked his cheek. "I loved you once, you know. I still do. I understand why you were... hesitant, especially now, but I still wish you had gives us a chance." She paused. "May I kiss you, just  this once?"

Bruce's eyes widened like a child's in a toy store. Quick as she could, Diana darted forward and kissed him before the moment and the memory was lost. If she closed her eyes, she could almost convince herself that he was kissing her back.

"What's wrong?" Clark asked as she left the room.

"What do you mean?" Diana said.

"You're crying." Diana touched her cheeks then fiercely scrubbed away the wetness there. "Diana..."

"There's nothing wrong," she said. "I'm just... realizing how much time I wasted by being tricked by Bruce's act." Clark put a hand on her shoulder.

"We all were," he said. "When you're up here all the time, it gets hard to remeber that most people aren't so resilient. Bruce was an expert at making us forget he was only human. A rude awakening was inevitable sooner or later." Diana shivered slightly. "He's gone, Diana. We're going to have to accept that."

"I- I almost wish I hadn't gone and convinced him to come back," Diana admitted. "It would have been easier than to see him like..." She knew that she was crying freely, but she didn't move to brush her tears away. "Do you think he will remember when he is in Hades?"

"I hope so," said Clark with a slight shrug. Diana took a steadying breath. 

"I will pray to the gods tonight,"she said. "If Bruce must die, he deserves a place of honor in the Fields of Elysium." Clark nodded, though Diana could see plainly that he didn't believe that her gods existed. She didn't care about his doubt. The fact that no one cared abojt her gods was no reason not to beg them to give Bruce the honor in death that he had never enjoyed in life. If there was anyone who deserved a rest, it was the Batman.


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce opened his eyes and sat up. The grass was soft beneath him, and the trees waved their branches in the slight breeze. The sun was bright and warm on his face. Bruce blinked, wondering vaguely how he had gotten there. Then it hit him.

He could remember everything.

Bruce reeled from the realization of that simple fact. He could think. He could remember every moment of his life in perfect clarity. He could even remember forgetting, which was a rather strange sensation.

It should have been hell to have all the pain of his life restored to him, but it wasn't. The woods around him gave him a strange sense of peace, the kind of peace unable to be obtained even in perfect innocence. It energized him, yet he felt he could lie there for hours just basking in the glory around him.

In the distance, Bruce suddenly saw two figures. He squinted, trying to make out details through the bright sunlight, but they remained indistinct. The figures began to move towards him, and Bruce felt his heart begin to beat faster. What he was seeing had to be impossible, but the closer they came the more sure he was.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?" Bruce began to run towards them, a pure smile breaking through for the firat time in years.

He was home.


End file.
